If there's a light at the end ( it's just the sun in your eyes )
by timeladyelf
Summary: Robb' life never stopped twisting and turning, from the moment he met Jon to the bitter end. Life is never how we want it to be, sometimes it's better that way, sometimes it isn't. or the one where Robb has no idea what he's doing and realy, he just wants to punch Theon.


Robb is almost two years old when the Rebellion ends and his father comes home. He doesn't understand any of it but he understands he is not alone anymore. He understands that this new bearded face belongs to his father and that this loud wailing belongs to another baby.

He is three now and he knows he should understand more of what was going on but the baby still puzzles him. The infant, Jon, is now almost two and Robb still doesn't know what he is to him. His Lord Father says Jon is his baby brother, his Lady Mother says Jon is a "bastard". It confuses him to no end because one label seemed to exclude the other, so who was he supposed to listen to?

All the baby does is cry and utter nonsense and crawl around the nursery. It's pretty boring in Robb's opinion. Still, everyday he goes to Jon's room and watches him, trying to figure out the puzzle even if the constant crying annoys him. Sometimes he sits in one of the chairs, sometimes he just stands in the doorway, but he is always there for a few minutes, looking for clues to solve the mystery.

It's a slightly less cold afternoon when Robb finally finds his answer. He finishes his lessons and makes his way to the nursery. There is no crying today whe he arrives, Jon is sitting quietly in the rug entertained by something or other and the maid is knitting in her rocking chair. This time there is no available chair in the room, the only spare one being used to stock the maid's knitting tools, and althought Robb would usually just stand there, this time he chooses to sit on the ground. He picks one of the corners and plopps down, crossing his legs. Any other day his attention would have been focused on the smaller boy, but today it's not the usual freezing weather and thus the pale sun catches his eye on the window. So he doesn't notice Jon getting bored, he doesn't notice Jon crawling towards him. He is brought back to the room only when the two years old is already looking up at him with big brown doe eyes. He doesn't know what to do or even if he should do anything at all, but then Jon is flashing him a toothless smile and utters, " 'obb? Play 'ith me?" in his childish voice. A warm feeling spreads through his chest and a matching grin breaks in his lips.

Robb is three years old and Jon is his brother.

 _( It's a lot colder when Robb thinks about that day again, they are standing in the snow and it freezes them to the bones. It is cold like goodbyes should be )_

 _._

 _._

 _._

Robb is six years old when ten-years-old Theon Greyjoy arrives.

Theon is quiet and dark and always sulking and brooding. He spends most of his days silently looking out of windows. Robb doesn't understand what is going on again, but he knows the other boy won't be leaving anytime soon.

It takes Theon five weeks and three days to talk to Robb.

It happens in a cold, cold evening, when the children are shooed to their rooms after dinner. It is cold and the fire is pale, all Robb wants is to go to sleep underneath his furs. That's when he hears it. A soft whimper, almost out of his earshot. He looks around confused in all his childish innocence. Robb spots the trembling form of the other boy across the room. Theon had buried himself under a pile of furs but Robb could still see his back shaking. The smaller boy pads softly to the the other bed, shaking Theon gently.

"Are you cold?" Robb asks and the other boy stills under his touch, "Are you cold? You was shaking."

" I'm fine," a sniff, " go away."

"If you cold, I have more blankets." Robb is still talking to Theon's mop of hair, since he wouldn't uncurl himself, "Wait a minute. Here." He throws one of his warmest furs on top of the pile and tries his best to tuck in the other boy. "Now you won't be so cold no more!"

Maybe it is the genuine delight in his voice, or maybe it is just time healing wounds, but Theon slowly emerges from underneath the blankets and looks owlish at the six years old. "Thanks." he murmurs hesitantly, and Robb beams at him.

"No problem!" He smiles even wider, "Good night, Theon!"

Robb is almost asleep, when the answer comes, "Good night, Robb."

It is a small step, but it is a start.

 _( It is their beginning, the prelude of a song bigger than all of them )_

 _( Robb is just the first act and Theon won't hear the end either)_

 _._

 _._

 _._

Robb is fourteen and there is a king in his doorstep.

He doesn't understand, again, what is going on, because it is cold and there hasn't been a King in the north for centuries but King Robert Baratheon is

down in the _cripts_ with his father and Robb is trying to ignore the brat of a prince they brought along.

Prince Joffrey is annoying at best and an asshole at worst, actually that being an understatement. Robb cannot for the life of him understand how Sansa can be so smitten by him.

 _"_ That's girls for you," Theon deadpanned from his spot under the tree, "she is smitten by the title, not the boy." He flicked off a leaf that fell on his head with a scowl, "He could be a fucking ogre and she still would swoon."

"It is my sister you are talking about, you know." Robb sighed, they had managed to escape from the crowded castle to the woods, in hope of getting some peace and avoiding the Royal family.

"Fine, then, she would, very properly swoon. " Theon had his eyes closed, back against the tree trunk and head tilted back, he was the picture of relaxing. But Robb knew better. After almost ten years he knew all Theon's little telltale signs he tried to hide. He saw the way his lips were stretched in a thin line and the way his back was too straight. He saw the way his eyebrows were frowning just slightly so and the way his voice was too composed, too nonchalant. _( Theon was anything but nonchalant. No, Theon was raw emotions and thunderstorms. Theon was the ocean ) ( and Robb was the winter )_

Robb reads Theon as if he is a book he has memorized by heart. _( which he has )_

So Robb knew Theon was uncomfortable and probably angry, which, now that he thought about it, seemed to be his default state of mind for everything. This time he has reasons, though. With all the royalty up and about, appearences had to be kept, so the Greyjoy had to be put to his place, a hostage in Winterfell.

Robb knew Theon hated having it be thrown in his face like this. Hell, even _he_ hated it. Because Theon was _so_ much more than a hostage, a way of keeping Balon Greyjoy in line.

"Gods, I wish they would just go away." Robb looks at the grey sky and thinks how very unlike it is the gods would hear him, but he prays anyway, "I wish I didn't have to pretend to like them."

Theon snorts loudly, ( _because everything Theon is loud_ ), " Don't be like that, kiss their asses now and they'll kiss your ass later," he puts on a mocking solemn face," when you are Lord of Winterfell, all pompous and icy." He laughs, "Lord Robb the Ginger, catchy, uh, my lord?"

"Fuck off." Robb scowls but without any real venom, because how could he, when Theon is smiling again, even if it is his infuriating _i-know-something-you-don't-dumbass_ smile. "Fuck you, don't call me that."

"As you wish, my lord." He half-bows and closes his eyes again, this time there is no frown in his face and his lips are curled upward, althought still thight-lined. "Where is your puppy anyway? Thought that thing was glued to you."

"My _direwolf,_ " Robb glares, "is playing with his siblings," a pause, "and he is not glued to me."

"Whatever," Theon waves him off, " the damn thing has not left your side once. And what kind of name even is Grey Wind? It's a wolf not a bird."

"It is a very wolfy name, alright?" Robb pauses, replays the last sentence in his head and opens his mouth to speak. Theon beats him to it.

" Did you just say _wolfy_?" The older boy laughs boisterous, "You really, honest-to-god, just said _wolfy?_ "

Robb means to say something witty back, he really does, but witty is for Theon and Theon hasn't stopped laughing yet and it is infectious and the whole thing _is_ ridiculous, they are ridiculous, so he can't help but laugh too.

Robb is fourteen and Theon is eighteen, and there is king in his doorstep, but that's fine, they have snow in their hair and laughter in their lips.

 _( it is warm in the Riverlands but Robb doesn't laugh anymore, he has a pretty girl at his side, but her smile is all wrong )_

.

.

.

Robb is fifteen and he is Lord of Winterfell.

Robb is fifteen and he cannot understand how fast his life fell apart in just one year. Jon is at the Wall, his mother was last saw in the Vale, his sisters are stranded in King's Landing for all he knows and his father is in prison for treachery.

Also, he's gotten himself in the middle of a fucking war.

It is so surreal that sometimes Robb thinks he is dreaming. Sometimes he thinks he is going to wake up and find out Jon never left, or better, _no one_ ever left.

 _( he should've learned, nothing good comes out of people leaving )_

Robb hates being a lord because he just knows he is going to fuck things up. He is a fifteen years old boy who don't know first thing about leading an army in normal conditions, much less against Tywin _fucking_ Lannister.

He doesn't say anything but he hopes Joffrey would just let his father go already so that they can all go home and stop pretending they know what they're doing.

Robb is fifteen and his father's head is in a spike and his sisters are lost.

Everything is just so damn helpless he wants to scream.

"Have you even eaten today?" Theon asks because of course, _of course_ , of all the shit raining down, he would choose his _fucking eating schedule_ to worry about. "Never mind that, of course you didn't." He ducks out of the tent just emerge again, this time with a tray in his hands, " really, Robb, stop making it so damn easy for them to kill you."

"What the- _no,_ " Robb tries to push the food away, he really does, but he knows he lost the battle when Theon looks up with big dark eyes and a lost puppy face, "Theon, I don't have _time."_

 _"_ Yes, yes, I know," he rolls his eyes and waltz, fucking _waltz_ , further into his tent, " too many important things to do. I get it. But Robb, you need to eat before you starve yourself."

 _"_ I can take care of myself!" Robb blurts out because that's where the issue is, isn't it? "I don't need you or mother babysitting me."

 _"_ I- _we_ 're not-," he sighs and shakes his head and it is so damn patronizing that Robb wants to scream all over again, " _this,"_ he gestures the tray, "is not babysitting. This is _me_ trying to stop _you_ from dying of sheer stubborness."

And then Theon is leaving with that kicked puppy face again and Robb just knows he screwed up.

 _( because that's what it comes down to, isn't it? everyone keeps leaving )_

 _( they're approaching the final of their act, of Robb's act )_

 _( it is not one of Sansa's favorite songs, no )_

 _( this is a tragedy )_

 _._

 _._

 _._

Robb is fifteen and he is the King in the North and he really wants to kick whoever thought it was a good idea. He absolutely hates ruling. It is messy and exhausting and he was never supposed to do it. No, Robb was raised to be a Lord, not a King.

He is just fifteen but he doesn't feel much like a boy anymore, you can't really call someone who killed plenty of men a boy. War has taken childhood out of him.

He is fifteen and he defeated Jaime Lannister and made him his prisioner.

Robb is a King and he hopes. He hopes he will get his sisters back safe and sound. He hopes Jon is safe at the Wall. He hopes Bran and Rickon are safe in Winterfell. He hopes his mother stays safe at his side. He hopes Theon is safe in Pyke.

Robb is a King at the age of fifteen but he hopes.

 _( he hopes he can change what is already written. There isn't much point in that )_

 _( it is written in stone with ice and fire )_

.

.

.

 _( Are you my brother? Now and always? )_

 _( Now and always. )_

.

.

Robb is still fifteen but it feels like a lifetime since he watched his family leaving for King's Landing with snow in their hairs.

It feels as if he changed so much that it can't be said he is still Robb Stark. There is too much blood in his hands and too much holes in his heart.

Robb is fifteen and he hates Theon. He left him with promises of aliances and victory, but returned him a burnt castle and a ransom letter.

Robb is fifteen and it feels like he put his trust in all the wrong places. He feels betrayed and angry, but mostly sad.

He is sad because he lost the best friend he ever had. He cannot see the boy he grew up with, so full of witty and stupid ideas, turning on him like this.

 _( Robb is the winter, sure and constant and predictable like the season but Theon is the ocean, inconstant and moody and brave )_

 _(You may love the sea, but you cannot trust it )_

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.

.

Robb is sixteen and his little brothers are dead, his sisters are lost to him, his mother has rebelled, Theon has betrayed him and he possibly made the biggest mistake of his life.

He has a pretty little wife that is definetly _not_ a Frey.

He is sixteen and he is supposed to make mistakes, what is _not_ supposed is his mistakes to cost people's lives.

Robb is sixteen and he thinks he can learn to love Jeyne. She is beautiful and blonde and blushes a lot. He can learn to love that.

Jeyne is curious and shy and loves to remind him he is a King.

 _( "that's girls for you, she is smitten by the title not the boy" says the little voice in his head that sounds a lot like Theon )_

 _( shut up )_

.

.

.

There is a piece of skin in his table.

It makes him sick.

.

.

.

Robb Stark is sixteen and he is dying.

He is not afraid and he is not upset. He is mostly sad.

He is not surprised either, he has thought a lot about his death, back when he started his campaign and it was a very possible thing. Funny how he always thought he would die in battle with Grey Wind in one side and Theon in the other.

Now Robb is alone dying in a fucking wedding.

Robb is sixteen and he knows he got it all wrong this time around. He is only happy he sent Jeyne away. She deserved better than a slaughter.

Robb Stark is sixteen and he is the King who lost the North.

.

.

.

Robb is sixteen and he is dead.

 _( it was a tragedy from the beginning, he never had a chance )_

 _( all men must die )_

.

.

.

 _( Where was I? I should've died with him )_

 _( it rhymes with freak )_

.

.

.

 _( end of first act )_


End file.
